


The Next Morning

by Rayduuu



Series: Amarië Lavellan [7]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Break Up, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-28 23:52:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3874639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rayduuu/pseuds/Rayduuu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The morning after Solas ends their relationship, Amarië Lavellan is left with no Vallaslin and no idea how to come to terms with these events on her own. Unfortunately, the only person who could possibly understand is the last person she wants to talk to- Solas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Next Morning

Amarië sat on her bed, the sheets twisted around her, a hand mirror clutched in her fist. It was getting late. People would start noticing that she hadn’t left her quarters yet, but she couldn’t move, couldn’t tear her eyes from her reflection. From the face that was now so unfamiliar.

Last night the choice had seemed so easy. Slave markings, he had said. Despite her confidence that her people now proudly wore their vallaslin for their own reasons, for themselves and their gods, whatever the origin, she could not reconcile that in herself. Slave markings. Not a proud member of her clan and her people, not a woman who had endured the agonizing ritual without even a twitch, but a slave. A  _victim_. Her people were so proud they had never submitted to Tevinter that they wore it on their faces, but the truth made it a cruel mockery. Even in their defiance they branded themselves.

It wasn’t the lie that twisted so foully in her gut, it was knowing what the truth would do to the Dalish. They had made the vallaslin their own. They could have lived forever with that pride, but she chose to reject it. How many more would want to do the same, and not be able to? How badly would this divide her already broken people? If she had told Solas not to cast his spell she could have hidden the truth and protected her people. Wasn’t that her purpose? To protect her people? Even now, as Inquisitor, that was still her purpose, but “her people” had grown to include all of Orlais and Ferelden. Not just Lavellan, not just the Dalish, or even all elves, but all people who sought the protection of the Inquisition.

And now she had a new face to show and explain to all of Thedas.

She had no idea how to do that.

The door to her quarters opened. The quiet booted footsteps on the stairs told her that it was a runner. She dropped the mirror, turning away from the stairs and pulling the sheets to her chest before she could be seen.

“Your worship,” the runner said nervously once she reached the top of the staircase, “Lady Cassandra wishes to know if you plan to join her in the yard this morning, as she expected.”

Shit. She sparred with Cassandra every morning. She should have sent word, but that would have meant speaking with someone. Someone who would see her face and ask questions she could not answer.

“Please apologize to Cassandra for me, let her know I am unwell this morning and will be keeping to my quarters. On your way, though…” She paused, gritting her teeth. There was only one person she could discuss her vallaslin with and it was the last person she wanted to speak to after last night. “Please ask Solas to join me in my quarters. I need to speak with him.”

“Yes, your worship.”

“He will likely give you some excuse as to why he cannot. Please insist. Tell him it’s not about…” No. She had to choose her words carefully, least all of Skyhold know every painful detail about her private life. She would have a difficult enough time containing the gossip not just about her face but about the distance that would inevitably be present between her and her former paramour. “Tell him it’s about the truth he revealed to me yesterday, not anything else.”

“Of course, your worship.”

The runner’s footsteps faded and the door closed behind her.

Amarië sighed, picking up the mirror again.

-

The runner entered the rotunda. Solas was at his desk, but his typically composed face was haggard. Tired. He had a large tome open in front of him but his eyes were unfocused, staring at one spot on the page without moving.

“Master Solas, the Inquisitor would like to speak to you. In her quarters.”

Without missing a beat Solas responded in a voice flat with exhaustion, “I apologize. Please let the inquisitor know that I am in the middle of vital research. It cannot be delayed.”

“Um..” The dwarf shuffled her feet nervously. “She anticipated that you would say that.” He looked up, raising an eyebrow. “She insisted, and said it was about the ‘truth you revealed to her yesterday’ and not about… Uh… Anything else.”

Solas let out a barely noticeable sigh and straightened his shoulders. “Of course. I will go immediately. Thank you.”

-

The door to her quarters opened again, much sooner than Amarië had expected. There were no boots, however quiet, on the steps this time- only a barely audible padding and the swish of fabric. The dullness that had permeated her thoughts was chased away by the very sudden reality that she would, in seconds, have to face him. Adrenalin flooded her system. Everything suddenly came into focus, becoming more real than she was able to handle in her current state of physical fatigue and emotional exhaustion. The fabric of the sheets around her legs scratched and irritated her skin- bare skin that was feeling the draft that moved through the room with the shutting of the door. The light shining from the snowy mountaintops around her was disorienting. And Solas was at the top of the stairs, eyes widening at her obvious distress.

She turned away, unable to face him, covering her eyes with her palms and taking deep, shaky breaths in an attempt to control the sudden rush of adrenalin and panic. “Give me a moment.” She mumbled into her hands. She took his lack of response as a patient acquiescence. She wrapped her arms around her torso, still refusing to face him. She shivered, slowly losing her tight grip on her control. “I can’t…” She grit her teeth, “I can’t calm down.” Her own heart was pounding in her ears. “Oh, Creators,” she breathed, “I don’t know what I’m going to do.” She finally turned to face him, eyes wide and dilated, and he was right there, easing himself onto the bed next to her and pulling her to him. Not as a lover, but as the only source of comfort that would ease her distress. He rubbed her back soothingly and she pressed her face into his chest, choking back the sobs that racked through her entire body until the shaking quieted and the panic abated. “I’m sorry,” she whispered into his tunic. She inhaled slowly, controlled. The familiar warmth of his scent filled her with a sense of calm and stinging regret. She gently pulled away from him, her color rising. “I didn’t mean for you to see me like this.”

His brow furrowed with worry. “Inquisitor, please. I am the cause of your distress. I have no desire to hurt you further.”

She was quiet, her eyes on the twisted sheets around her legs.

“You don’t have to posture,” He said, his voice hushed.

She sighed. “I do. You told me that the day they named me herald, do you remember?”

“Mm. I do.”

“I didn’t ask you here to blame you, Solas, but the vallaslin… I need your help. There’s no one else who would understand.” She slowly spread out her tightly clenched fingers, willing her tense muscles to relax, the adrenalin leaving her system. She closed her eyes, clearing the buzzing in her head. “I need you to help me reconcile my decision to let you remove my vallaslin. You left me vulnerable last night. You broke down… I  _let_ down every defense I had and you just walked away.” The words were bitter in her mouth, but she turned to face him. “Because of that, I do need to be strong, especially in front of you. I just didn’t realize it would be so difficult.”

He frowned and shifted away from her slightly, averting his eyes. The sheets had fallen away from her, revealing her bare skin. She had stripped her clothing off the moment she had arrived in her quarters early that morning, confirming that her whole body had been stripped of what had formerly marked her as Dalish. She had crawled into her bed in exhaustion without bothering to cover herself.

Solas’ reaction to her nakedness sparked her defiance. She made a noise of disgust that would have made Cassandra proud. “You’ve seen me naked dozens of times. I’m not seducing you. You left me, but that doesn’t mean our relationship never happened. You can’t suddenly treat me like a stranger.”

He raised his eyes to her, her glare burning into him. He shifted again, frowning. “Of course not. However, it is not for, ah,  _your_  benefit, lethallan.”

She blinked. Oh. “I’m not making this easy for you either, am I?”

“No.” His voice was soft.

She slid from the bed, pulling the sheet with her and wrapping it around herself, bare feet padding on the stone floor as she moved to the fireplace. Only embers remained, as she had been too tired and distracted to feed it before falling asleep.  She busied herself with stoking up the fire as she began to voice her thoughts from earlier that morning- her fears of what would happen to her people if they knew the truth of the vallaslin, her fear of what her own rejection of it would mean for them and for her, her visibility as a leader and what she represented.

“It will appear as though I’ve rejected the Dalish,” She said, wrapping her arms around her knees. Solas had remained on the bed as they spoke and she had settled on the ground near the fire. It was easier for her to talk about it, now that he wasn’t so close. “And they will, in turn, reject me. I’ve done no favors for my people by removing the thing that makes me most obviously one of them. It will hurt their cause.”

“Your own clan would reject you?”

She had not been able to keep from imagining her keeper’s disappointed look. “Keeper Deshanna is like a mother to me. She’s more open minded than many of the Dalish, she’s always been focused not only on preserving our culture but uncovering more of what we lost, even if what we learn is unsavory. This, though…” her voice trailed off. “The only thing she holds more important than that is the protection of our clan. I told you why I would be hesitant to make the origin of the vallaslin known. I trust her enough to tell her, but she would say what I said to you. ‘The Dalish have made it their own.’ The revelation would tear the clan apart.”

“Are you so certain?”

She shook her head. “I can hope that they would understand, but the Dalish set themselves apart for a reason. I can declare myself for all people, a member of every clan, a protector of all, but to the Dalish I will be just another bare-faced flat-ear. Even worse, I will be a traitor.  _Harellan_.”

She stared at the ground, unseeing, dejected. He swallowed painfully. “It had been my intention to liberate you, but it appears I’ve only chained you anew. I never intended to alienate you from your kin, lethallan.” Nothing about the events of the previous night had gone as he intended.

She shook her head. “I don’t blame you for this, Solas. You were right to tell me the truth and to offer me that choice.”

“Do you regret your decision?”

She shifted her weight uncomfortably. “Ir abelas. This will hurt you. I do not regret it, I would not have been able to live with myself knowing I was branded a slave. However… that was before you…” She paused, a wave of her hand indicating vaguely the space between them, “ended this.”

“Mm.”

The sides of her mouth pulled downward. “I knew that it would set me apart from my people, but it didn’t matter because…” her eyes filled, “ _you_  were my people. I would have been able to face the rejection of my clan because I had you.” Her voice had fallen to a whisper. “And now I don’t even have that.” She hastily wiped away the tears that dripped down her cheeks.

Solas suddenly stood, turning from her. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low and husky, strained.

She shook her head, swallowing her tears. “I know. I know this is difficult for you, you showed me that much last night. I’m not trying to make you feel guilty. You have your reasons.” She wavered on the next sentence, “I just wish you would trust me enough to tell me what those reasons are.”

“I do trust you. It isn’t that. I would like to hope that I will be able to tell you everything soon but… please accept that I cannot. Not yet.”

She was silent.

“I should go. We can speak more on this later, if you wish. I will tell the others not to disturb you. You are strong, Amarië, not a single person doubts that, but… send for me, if you need me to be there when you face them.” He started down the stairs.

“It feels empty without you.” She said quietly.

He paused, lingering on the step, before sighing. “Yes. It does.”

The emotion that made his words tremble as they left his throat filled the room even as his steps faded and the door closed behind him. That same feeling that did nothing to ease the emptiness in her chest.

That regret.

 

**Author's Note:**

> The most devastating part of the sudden breakup is that Amarië didn't just lose her lover, she lost her closest friend and partner- the one who she spoke with about _everything_. The one person she could honestly discuss her difficult decisions and their dire ramifications with, the only person who would truly understand, is the one person she doesn't _want_ to talk to because having him near while knowing she can't have him at all is too painful and bewildering.
> 
> Their relationship will continue to develop. Stay tuned.


End file.
